Mind the Gap
by stereolightning
Summary: Christmas shopping highlights class and cultural differences between fledgling lovers. James has questions. Lily has answers. A little bit of festive James/Lily fluff for your holiday season.


The twin doors at both ends of the car parted like the jaws of a snake. An electronic chime sounded, and a garbled male voice mumbled the name of the station. James pitched his weight forward onto his feet, onto his honey-colored leather boots, but Lily threw an arm out in front of him, catching his chest.

"Not our stop. One more," she said.

"Oh," he said. He popped his knuckles and tapped his toes and ran his hand through his hair. He twirled the wand hidden in his pocket. "I still don't see why we have to use the underground for this. I mean, it's certainly _interesting_."

She stiffened. "Doing a little Muggle studies over your Christmas holidays? You're just_ interested _in my people, anthropologically?"

He frowned at her. "No."

She sighed and looked out the window as the car rushed through a graffitied tunnel. The bright, looping script was too blurry to read.

"All I'm saying is, there are quicker ways to travel. Broom, floo, thestral, Apparition – "

"My Mum thinks Apparition is dangerous. I told her I would take the train," she said.

"But you're of age. You don't have to do what she says."

"I'm of age in the wizarding world, yeah. But Muggles come of age at eighteen."

"Do they?"

"Yes."

"Oh. But then, are you of age or not?"

"I don't know. You tell me," she said. The intercom chimed and babbled again. "This is our stop."

She held out her hand to him. Her gloves were blue and patterned with white snowflakes. He searched her face, wondering if she really wanted him to take her hand or not. Her mouth was a thin pink line, but her eyebrows tilted upward in gentle expectation, so on balance he thought she did want him to, so he did. They jumped across the gap and stepped over the painted yellow line. She led him to the end of the platform, and then around a corner which he suspected was invisible to Muggles. A fusty, dodgy hallway littered with fish and chip wrappings stretched before them.

"Am I just incredibly annoying to you?" he asked as they walked.

She stopped, so he did, too. The hallway was lit from overhead by fluorescent bulbs, several of which seemed to have lost their magic or electricity or whatever incandescent gas powered them, and consequently they flickered weirdly, like a silent film. A few peeling posters clung to the curved walls, advertising ladies' perfume and cigarettes. This date was not going especially well.

"No, you're not," she said at last.

She stuffed their linked hands into the left pocket of her green woolen coat.

"You're allowed to ask questions. I'm sorry. This is difficult sometimes. Holidays," she said.

He ran his bare thumb over her gloved one in slow circles. "Why?"

"Because my family are all Muggles, and my friends are all wizards. I get tired of navigating the cultural differences. I mean, do you know what the exchange rate is between gold and pounds right now? And did you know that you can get written up for Misuse of Magic if you give your Muggle sister a box of every-flavour beans? It's ridiculous. I feel like a pinball sometimes. That's something like a snitch, to you," she said.

"I know what pinball is," he said.

She tilted her head to one side, thinking. Then, inexplicably, she smiled. She started walking again, and he shortened his stride slightly to keep in step with her.

"What does that mean, anyway? Mind the gap?" he asked.

"It's that little space between the train and the platform. The one we just jumped over."

"Oh. Alright."

She led him into a cramped, wood-paneled lift. He had only been in a lift once before. She tapped a square button labelled 4 ½, which glowed yellow. He felt the lift jerk upward. When the doors parted again, they were dumped out into a narrow side street between Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley. They rounded the corner, passing Ollivander's, and their boots crunched through the light layer of salted snow in the street.

She stopped in front of a festive shop window displaying elegant shoes.

"Someone on your list need new clogs?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. Silly. I just like them."

"Which?"

"Those purple boots. With the little flowers."

He squinted at them. "Yeah, they are your taste."

She scrunched up her face, amused. "What do you mean, they're my taste?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. That's how you dress. Bright colors. I can always spot you in a crowd."

Her amused expression deepened into a smile. She sized up the window display again.

"I don't have a problem with _shopping_, Lily. You can go and try them on. I can amuse myself for ten minutes. Or I'll go in with you if you like."

"Nah, no point," she said. "Can't afford them. Let's go to Flourish and Blott's first. Want to find something for Moony."

They crunched on toward the bookshop. Bells and ribbons and mistletoe dangled from street lamps. But this year, the Alley had definitely taken on a palpably darker, lonelier feeling. It was certainly not deserted, but the crowds were thinner than usual, and people walked hastily, not stopping to talk to anyone. It made James a little sad; he had always liked the holiday shopping bustle. Once upon a time, he had taken advantage of that mayhem to play some highly amusing pranks.

"I'll buy them for you. The boots," he said.

Lily shook her head, and some of her red hair tumbled loose from her sloppy braid. "No. I don't want you to."

He shifted his hand in her pocket, squeezed her fingers, and let go. "Why not? You like them."

"Because I don't want to have that kind of relationship with you," she said.

He opened the door to Flourish and Blott's, which was full of people. A bent, white-haired witch was signing copies of her autobiography at the back of the shop.

"What kind of relationship?" he asked.

She picked up a fat Potions tome and flipped through it casually. "One where you buy me things just because I like them. One where we throw money at our problems," she said.

"Is that what you think this would be like?" he asked seriously.

She studied a diagram in the book for a moment, not quite giving him her full attention. "I don't know," she said.

He took the book from her and set it back on the shelf. She blinked at him. He bit his lip and fidgeted with his wand again.

"Look, Lily, I'm not going to – I mean this isn't – I don't think of you as some – have you ever seen _Gentlemen Prefer Blondes_?"

She laughed. "What?"

"That film, with Marilyn Monroe and that other bird, I mean woman, where she has that dance number with all the diamonds."

"Diamonds are a girl's best friend."

"Yeah. That. You've seen it, right?"

"Yes."

"I mean it's iconic. Even I know what that is. Well, don't get me wrong, Marilyn was sexy as hell, and maybe that whole song is supposed to be a joke at some level, but it's a really horrible stereotype about women, that they're only after blokes with money. And I think it's crap. And I don't think you're like that. I don't think you give a damn. If anything, you think I'm some spoiled, ignorant, upper-class prat who can barely string two sentences together without offending you and demeaning huge swaths of humanity."

She snorted. "No, I don't."

"You don't?"

She shook her head. She meandered down a row of Transfiguration books, many of which he already owned, having spent three years working out how to become an Animagus.

"Well, what _do_ you think of me?" he asked, unable to keep a note of petulance out of his voice.

"I think you're trying," she said. "I think there are things you don't know, but you're at least trying to learn them."

He caught up to her again. He stood close to her, looking down into her face. Her braid was truly coming apart now; she had done a very shoddy job with it. But the effect was pretty. Her eyes darted from one end of the row to the other. They were alone.

"I am. I am trying."

"Yes. And I think you should come here so I can kiss you," she said, pulling him into a toe-curling, face-melting snog in full view of any potential passersby.

"I'm trying, oh, let me keep trying," he murmured against her lips.

She giggled softly into his mouth. Her lips were ever-so-slightly chapped, and smeared with raspberry lipgloss. Then she leaned back against the bookshelf and grinned. He grinned back. Alright, maybe this was not such a miserable date after all.

"Mind the gap," he said, pulling her by the waist, closing the space between them again.

"That's not what that means," she said.

"Isn't it?" he asked, hooking one finger in the belt loop of her jeans, and letting the other hand wander.

"No. Mmmn. Okay. Oh – mmmh. Save some of that for the train home. Hey, is it true that you have an invisibility cloak?"


End file.
